


Over and Over Agwen

by DraceDomino



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Corruption, F/M, Facials, Glory Hole, Graffiti, Groping, Masturbation, Molestation, Non-Consensual Groping, Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, School Uniforms, Subways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraceDomino/pseuds/DraceDomino
Summary: While taking the subway train home, Gwen Stacy gets groped. She doesn't manage to catch the culprit in the act, but that won't stop her from coming back next time and trying to stop him! Or at the very least, coming back for more!
Relationships: Gwen Stacy/Strangers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

Over and Over Agwen  
Chapter One  
-by Drace Domino

Riding the subway train was just a part of life in New York City. Nobody enjoyed it - being packed shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, jostling around in a big metal tube shooting underneath the city, averting your eyes when somebody was doing something weird. It was like a social experiment that everyone just went along with out of sheer necessity, and most people stumbled their way through it hoping to arrive at their destination without too much trouble. A group of rowdy teens blasting music through the train? Someone wearing nothing but a speedo? Did a guy bring an actual spider monkey on board? Best not to engage - just keep your head down, keep a low profile, and if the monkey wants your candy bar, might as well give it to him.

Gwen Stacy was less fond of the subway than most. When one could travel from rooftop to rooftop via web slinging, what extremely little charm the subway had diminished into nothing. Whipping around the city skyline in her skintight suit was a hell of a lot more comfortable than standing stationary amidst a crowd of people, not to mention the fact that New York smelled way better from above than it did from below. Still...she couldn’t always be the hero. Sometimes it paid to put aside the big league heroics and just connect with people. If nothing else, her most recent adventure with Miles, Peter, and the rest of the Spider Family taught her that much.

She just wasn’t expecting this much connection. The subway was more cramped than Gwen remembered from the last time she rode it, with people wedged in so tight that she couldn’t move without bumping into someone. When the train made its next stop more people got on but next to no one left, and like a cup that was rapidly reaching the point of overflow more people poured inside. The blonde grunted as she was jostled further from the seats and closer to the middle of the aisle, bumped by a rude passenger or two and only barely able to reach up a hand to grasp the support cord hanging from the rail. By the time she stabilized herself and looked around, the young woman was pressing her tongue against her teeth and bristling her shoulders in growing irritation.

“Okay, rude…” she murmured as much, but looking around she’d be hard pressed to pick just which of the other passengers had bumped her. They were packed so tight that she couldn’t even see the subway windows through the forest of people, not with a pair of businessmen wearing heavy cologne to one side and a group of construction workers at the other. They were all engaged in their own conversations in their own little word, not a single one of them paying any attention to the short blonde in the schoolgirl outfit that found herself lost in the mess. Probably for the best, that. With a tiny grumble rising from Gwen’s throat and her tongue pressing against the gap between her front teeth, the hero simply settled herself into place and prepared to stand for the rest of the trip. It was uncomfortable, it was awkward, it was noisy...it was New York.

The subway train continued along, repeating the same process as before. The doors opened, a small handful of people got off and a large handful got on. With each stop the walls of noisy civilians closed in more and more around her, and it wasn’t long before Gwen was feeling nostalgic for the wide, open stretches of the skyline where she could enjoy dozens of feet of personal space. By the time the second stop came, the businessmen and construction workers were pressed body-to-body with her, and by the time they hit the third they were actively squeezing her against their stubborn forms. It was a tight fit, but as miserable as Gwen was, she had no idea just how much her personal bubble could be further violated.

It happened just after the third stop, during which a large group of commuters getting off work piled into the subway train. Once more the sea of people jostled to make room for them, and once more Gwen felt herself stumbling in the pile, struggling to keep her hand around the support line. After the loud hiss of the subway’s doors closing the thing started to speed along once more, and they had only barely gone a few seconds before she first felt it. A hand - open palmed, fingers spread, creeping underneath the admittedly short edge of her schoolgirl skirt to grope along her backside.

The young hero went tense, her eyes opening wide and her throat instantly tightening. Underneath her uniform she was still somewhat protected, both by the full-leg nylons that ran from her waist to her toes and by a pair of conservative panties. (After all, the boys at school were always trying to steal a peek, and her spider senses couldn’t be everywhere at once!) At first, the touch was noticeable but brief, with that single, large hand passing across one cheek of her rear, leaving her skirt slightly folded upward. From pure instinct Gwen bristled and bucked her hips forward, her free hand dropping to take her skirt back down and her tongue hiding behind her teeth. She said nothing - silently hoping that it was just an accidental and unintentional caress. After all, they were packed in so tight that she couldn’t even turn to see who had done it!

Gwen tensed her muscles and held her breath, narrowing her eyes as she stared ahead at the back of the businessman in front of her. Ready to simply let the incident pass without comment, it seemed for a moment that it truly was an accidental gesture...until the hand returned with a much bolder grip. When it found its way underneath her skirt again this time that heavy palm pressed firm against her backside, fingers splayed out before suddenly bending inward with a tight, clear grope. They dug deep against the fabric of her nylons, tugged at the very edges of her panties where they gripped her thigh, and the hand locking against her wiggled back and forth as if checking to see just how tight that teenage ass could be.

Again, Gwen Stacy froze, her throat tight and her eyes open in a state of shock. How could someone be this bold?! How could someone be this depraved?! Just...just randomly grabbing a girl clearly wearing a school uniform? Just helping themselves to a piece of ass wedged in tight with all the other subway passengers? Her first instinct was to swiftly spin and launch an attack, throwing one of her super powered punches squarely into the jaw of whatever bold criminal was doing this. She only hesitated because such a thing would clearly reveal herself to be above and beyond the usual teenage girls that rode the subway, and the quick calculation in her head told her that the secret identity of Spider-Gwen was worth more than her dignity. As such, Gwen merely cringed and took a long, deep breath, closing her eyes and bracing herself while that hand continued to explore. How much harm could it really do? Once the crowd dispersed, surely she could pull away from it!

Unfortunately for Gwen’s backside, the train was on a long stretch with no stops, and that hungry hand continued to play. Slowly it rolled up and down across her trembling rear cheek, fingers actively curling and walking across her body in direct violation of her personal space. She still didn’t turn to see just who was doing it, but when she managed to catch a glance at the crowd’s reflection through the sight of a distant window, it was downright impossible to tell. She could see over a half-dozen men just staring ahead like nothing was going on, and in the middle of the group a short, trembling, blushing young woman with a blonde undercut and her tongue pressed nervously to the gap between her front teeth.

For the first time Gwen made a noise from the contact, a sharp gasp that rose from her throat and then crumbled into a slow shudder. It burst from her because that greedy hand was joined by another, and while fingers began to creep over the other side of her ass the first palm was scouring new territory. Fingers teased across the side of Gwen’s thigh through the fabric of her nylons, drifted close to her knee before walking straight back up again. When they pinched the edge of her uniform’s skirt and tried to lift it up, she swiftly brought her own hand forward to push it back down - a step the pair repeated two, three, four times before that invading hand gave up. It redirected its efforts, no longer trying to expose the teenager’s nylon-clad backside to the world, and instead choosing to slither straight around to the front of her figure and nestle keenly into space between her thighs.

Gwen audibly squeaked, and with one hand still holding the subway support cord, the other snapped across her mouth in a state of shock. This...this pervert really was helping himself to everything! That greedy hand at her ass continued squeezing, groping, trying to slide fingers underneath the edge of her panties even while snagging through the nylons. Meanwhile the other was so bold that it was tracing the front of her with two focused fingers, expertly pinpointing where her hood was hiding underneath her clothes and then slipping down in a pointed grind. By that point, Gwen could feel the presence of someone standing squarely behind her with his chest to the back of her head, but when she tried to get a glimpse of his reflection in the window, the opportunity was stolen from her by another businessman moving innocently into her field of vision. Unseen and unhindered, the fondling assailant continued to squeeze, grope, rub, and tease...all while the uniform-clad schoolgirl shivered underneath the attention.

“F...fuck...you…” Gwen managed to whisper, hoping that he could hear her over the noise of the subway. By that point a few strands of soft blonde hair were dangling before her face, sweat lining her brow as a heavy blush had completely overtaken her. She was left with no other recourse but to fidget helplessly underneath the unwanted attention, squirming as he prodded her pussy through the fabric of her panties and took liberties with her well-toned backside. Her knees were so weak that she eventually had to bring a second hand up to hand on the support cord, and when she did so her voice escaped once more in a venomous, angry tone. “You’re lucky...this subway...is so crowded.”

“Hmm? Did you say something, young lady?” one of the businessmen standing in front of her suddenly turned, his brow lifted and his face curious. Behind him there stood a trembling blonde in excited distress, yet the close quarters ensured he couldn’t see the arms closing around her to violate her body. Instead, he simply looked at the blushing Gwen, his tone entirely innocent and concerned. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m...f-fine,” Gwen hissed from the back of her throat, before giving him an irate growl. “Mind...mind your business!”

“Hmph. What a rude thing you are,” the man simply rolled his eyes and turned back, leaving Gwen alone with her unfortunate situation. A situation that - as Gwen would soon learn - was about to get all the more intense. Those two fingers teasing the front of her panties suddenly dug forward with a harder intensity, curling as they offered an insatiable, fierce grind against her pussy through the fabric. Once more Gwen was left gripping the support cord as she buckled - her knees weak and her head bobbing forward, another gasp escaping the back of her throat. In the same moment the hand at her rear squeezed particularly tight, hooking fingers against the back of her panties to suddenly lift and jostle them from side to side. It was all too much for the young woman in that instant, and despite herself - despite her indignation, her outrage, her shame - Gwen found herself trembling in the sudden rush of an orgasm.

Her eyes shot wide open as it happened, staring at the backs of people ahead of her as her body betrayed her. That teenage pussy quivered underneath the contact as a sudden warmth completely overtook her, rushing over her cheeks and making her school uniform feel like it gripped her as tight as her hero one. It was a wet climax, as shameful as she was to realize it, with her juice soaking her panties and the nylons beyond, likely so much that the man assaulting her could tell just how wet she was. As she had a traitorous squirting orgasm right there in the middle of the crowd, Gwen’s senses were practically overwhelmed - assaulted on all sides by the sounds, smells, and vibrations of the subway train rolling forward, all experienced under a blanket of shameful, wet heat. One of her eyes twitched and she pressed her tongue fiercely hard against the back of her teeth, letting a bit of it squeeze past the gap just as she did in her moments of greatest tension. As she felt her nylons stick to her thighs from the excess squirt and her panties dig up between the sides of her ass, Gwen was left feeling helpless and vulnerable in a way that she hadn’t ever when confronted with a supervillain - and just like that, it was over.

Before she fully processed that they had left, the hands against her ass and pussy left, retreating back into the crowd. That large figure looming behind her shuffled away to the point that even if Gwen spun around on a heel, she wouldn’t be able to tell exactly who it was. Abandoning Gwen in her shame and her violation, the figure simply disappeared into the mess of people that were starting to get ready to depart at the next subway stop. Gwen just trembled, bucked her hips, and offered a pathetic shudder into the noise of the train.

This...this wasn’t the end.

***

It was three days later that Gwen returned to the very same train on the very same course, this time with the expectation of justice. After stewing in frustration and anger for the entire weekend, the young woman simply wasn’t able to dismiss the memory of what had been done to her. The groping hands, the teasing fingers, the bold manipulations of her nethers...and the forced climax that rocked through her and forced her to make a walk of wet shame from the subway all the way back to her home, panties and nylons damp with her unwilling excitement. Thoughts of what happened to her that night had obsessed the hero the entire weekend - making her toss and turn in her sleep, forcing her to squirm in anger during her waking hours, and fueling her desire to catch the culprit. And now, with her goal set and her mind focused, she planned to do just that.

Just as it was the same train on the same course, it was also the same car and the same cute blonde with the same undercut. The only thing that had truly changed from that night three days ago was a small touch of Gwen’s attire - even though her school uniform that evening was mostly identical, she made it a point to wear a skirt she’d grown out of last year. The end result was a few more inches of tantalizing teenage thigh snugly gripped by dark nylons, and Gwen was counting on it serving as an effective trap for the groper that had assaulted her. The boys at school certainly seemed to notice - it seemed like every other minute she caught one of them staring.

The train rolled along just as it did the other day, with the car becoming increasingly more crowded with every single stop. Gwen was left getting jostled around from side to side amidst a crowd of taller passengers, and even recognized a few faces from her experience the other day - possible suspects should any of them get too close. One, two, three stops down the line, and Gwen was already feeling nervous goosebumps rise against her flesh. Not enough to activate her spider senses, but just enough to remind her that her body remembered what happened at this point. When she managed to catch a glimpse of her own reflection in the closest window, she could even see that she was blushing - something that she silently cursed herself for doing.

“...all right, you son of a bitch, any minute now,” Gwen whispered idly to herself, her tongue dashing within her mouth and fidgeting from side to side. She teased it up and down both rows of teeth before nuzzling it in the obvious spot - pressing flush to the gap as her breathing slowed and her muscles went tight. When no hand came, her brow knit in frustration and she slowly lowered one of her own, moving her fingers to the edge of her already-short skirt. “Let’s see if this gets your attention.”

She tugged upward at the fabric of her skirt, trying to make it ride higher on her backside without making it too obvious. She was successful in doing so, and more than a few people further back on the line would’ve noticed that the short blonde in the center of the train was offering a panty shot, whether or not she knew it. Through the snug, dark fabric of her waist-high nylons Gwen’s turquoise underwear could be seen - framed on both sides by a glorious tight teenage ass. With the trap set, Gwen simply stood there and waited. And blushed. And squirmed.

She didn’t have much time to stew in how exposed she felt, however, before her “friend” from the other day returned. It started just the same way as last time with an open-hand brush across her ass, offered up in such a way that it could be played off as an accident. Just as before, it let her sit on that sensation for a few brief moments before returning with a clearer purpose, fingers stretched out to cover as much area as possible and palm pressing to the spot where her panties ended. A slow, greedy squeeze came after while Gwen’s knees buckled and she found herself biting on her bottom lip, wincing and trembling as the returning culprit enjoyed that stolen grope. Sure enough, not long after the other hand returned as well, tracing two tightly-pressed fingers around the outside of her thigh, working up and down in a teasing “foreplay” before the subsequent violation.

Gwen took a deep breath, her eyes closing for the moment as she found her focus. This was it. All she had to do was twist away from this molester’s touch, use her spider reflexes to grab his wrists, and jerk him to the ground with a thud. Secret identity be damned! It’s exactly what he deserved after the events of the other day, and a fitting punishment for giving her an astonishingly intense, violent climax. As she braced herself - and perhaps even savored the touch as it crossed the front of her panties again - Gwen took a final few seconds before enacting her plan. Seconds that, ultimately, shattered the entire thing.

She had almost found the nerve to twist and attack, mere seconds away from it in fact, when a second set of hands found themselves against her. This time, they were stretching around her from behind to grope at that modest teenage bust. Palms pressed flat and fingers dug in, squeezing each perky tit with the same surprising, mighty grip. Gwen was so shocked by the assault of the second pair that she actively convulsed against the first, her hips bucking first back into the palm squeezing her ass and then forward to grind at the digits teasing her pussy. It was a foregone conclusion from that single point forward - obvious to both Gwen and the men groping her - that she wasn’t going to put up much of a fight.

“F...fuck…” the young woman hissed, her head dipping low to stare down at her own slender figure while it was groped. Thick, masculine hands were happily fondling her tiny tits, and Gwen could catch the sight of a wedding ring on his left hand while he kneaded her breasts as if he were invited to do so. After a few more gropes his focus drew narrower, and suddenly Gwen was left gasping as two pairs of thick fingers had expertled located her nipples through her uniform and bra, twisting and tweaking them carelessly. All the while, the other hands kept fondling, squeezing her ass and rubbing across both sides of it, fingers putting pressure against the growing wet spot of her panties. At a certain point, the hand teasing across her lap grew so bold that it reached high towards the waistband of her nylons, and Gwen, already sweating and quivering, didn’t find the strength to stop him. All she could offer was a simple, quiet murmur from the very back of her throat. “P...please…”

It was hard to say whether she was begging him to stop or begging him to continue, but it didn’t matter anyway. The bold assailant stuffed his hand straight down the front of Gwen’s nylons and underneath her panties, helping himself to a slender teenage pussy with a small patch of smooth, blonde hair resting just above it. Before Gwen could react, his fingers drug across her folds and two of them hooked forward, wedging inside of a quivering entrance and seeing just how far they could reach. The young woman gave a squeak as her feet slid further apart and her hands fell away from the railing. Helpless to hold herself up, weak in her knees and unbalanced from the attention, Gwen had no choice but to hook her hands against the arms of the man groping her tits - relying on him, of all people, for support.

“Ah...hahh…” the hero did her best to keep her voice low, and through the blonde locks hanging just before her face she darted her eyes across the subway train in the hopes of finding some semblance of help. What she received instead was a wall of backsides as people ignored her plight and went about their business, ignoring the teenage girl getting groped and fondled just like they would a drunk at three in the morning. The most she received was a glimpse towards a kindly-looking older man who simply studied her from head to toe, clearly saw her plight, and shook his head as he mumbled to himself.

“...sluts these days.”

Gwen couldn’t argue. Hell, she could hardly speak as she was left caught between those two casual, groping, unwanted men. The fingers in her pussy were bucking back and forth in a way that made her more excited than she could ever remember being, and when one of them nuzzled so deep inside of her that she could feel the edge of his wedding ring, it was nearly enough to pitch her over the edge yet again. The set of hands at her breasts kept tweaking her nipples while the one at her ass squeezed with a possessive grip, silently informing Gwen Stacy that for as long as the train was rolling, she belonged to him. To them. To a pair of bold, lusty men that liked the sight of her short, well-fit figure as it stood among the crowd. And Gwen, even though she had stepped onto the train that evening with the intention of bringing one man to justice, found herself failing everything she thought she knew about herself.

So wet. So hot. So tight. Her pussy squeezed against those invading fingers with a hungry, milking grip, and Gwen’s backside grinded against her assailant in lewd and inviting fashion without her consent. Her head was swimming and her throat was dry, her heart racing and sweat clinging to her brow. And through it all, the most damning thing was that her spider sense didn’t go off a single time. Not once as two men helped themselves to her tight, teenage figure.

After all...she wasn’t in danger. She was just in heat.

Once more her body betrayed her, and Gwen could feel her pussy tightening against those fingers so boldly exploring within. Her walls closed around the pair of invasive digits as her thighs squeezed together, and she felt the same flush of forbidden heat cross over her body from head to toe. Weak and weary and leaning against the body of the brute groping her tits, Gwen’s head rolled back to the point that she could draw in a long, deep scent of his cologne just as she started to hit her peak. Her hips twitched and trembled and found herself grinding against the touch offered inside of her, no longer trying to resist it but actively and silently begging him to go deeper. To invade more of her. To truly make her the property of the horny, molesting duo on the bus. Once more her nylons felt damp in the aftermath and once more her panties were soaked, and this time Gwen was left with a shuddering moment of escape as her assailant let his fingers ease out of her pussy and drift away once more.

Her skirt was let to lower, her breasts and ass were left untouched, and the last thing Gwen felt from the pair before the subway train made its next stop was a glancing twist of one of her nipples - a farewell gift from a stranger. A few seconds after they let her go, Gwen swiftly collapsed down to her knees, breathing heavy and trembling, still trying to get control of her body.

“Oh my! Young lady, are you okay?”

“Hey there, watch it, you almost made me trip!”

“Quit fuckin’ around down there, brat!”

The people on the train made their way up and over Gwen as the subway made its next stop, leaving her kneeling alone in the crowd. Ashamed, violated, wet, and hot.

***

It was late at night and far away from the subway train and the molesters within that Gwen Stacy had a chance to be alone. After an awkwardly quiet dinner with her father, the young woman swiftly retired to her bedroom, locked the door behind her, and collapsed into bed to think about what had happened. Thinking led to dwelling, which then led to touching, and before too long her lithe, young form was in the center of her bed grinding back and forth and teasing fingers over herself.

“F...fuck...all those people...s-some of them probably saw what I was doing, I…” Gwen shuddered, her eyes closing and her tongue pressing to the gap in her teeth, trying to picture herself back in that same position. To help imagine it, she was still wearing her school uniform, and by that point her panties and nylons were tented by her own hand stuffed straight down the front. As she tried to match her assailant’s two fingers with three of her own, Gwen’s other hand kneaded at her tits, going so far as to unbutton her shirt and lift up her bra for better access to her nipples. It was a far cry from the thrilling experience she encountered hours ago, but...but it was something. And she sure as hell needed it. “Those...those bastards, what they would’ve done if there wasn’t all those people...”

What would they have done?! Would one of them have shoved her to her knees and slapped his cock against her face? Would they have torn apart her stockings and found a way to fuck her right there in front of everyone? Maybe they would’ve just grabbed her by the wrists and taken her somewhere quiet and out of sight where they could really enjoy the hot, blonde teenage prize they claimed? Her mind was left spinning with possibilities and outright fantasies centered around two men she couldn’t even identify in a lineup - the faceless, handsy, married strangers that treated themselves to any slut they desired.

While those thoughts swirled in Gwen’s head, she finally found herself crashing into yet another climax. Her stocking-clad feet pressed to the bed as her hips lifted off the mattress, and she found herself actively fucking three fingers in and out of her soaked, quivering, desperate slit. Another juicy, shameful orgasm for Gwen Stacy, and though this one lacked the sheer impact of being fingered to climax on board a moving train, when Gwen fell flat against the mattress again she was left contending with something new. Sweat-licked, shivering, so sensitive that she kept her fingers in her pussy rather than risk pulling them free, Gwen merely stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom and gave a single, nervous swallow.

“...I have to go back,” she whispered, her throat dry and her body weak. “To...to catch them. This time I’ll definitely catch those perverts.”

Whatever she had to tell herself...she’d be riding that train again soon.

End of Chapter One.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her previous encounter on the subway, Gwen Stacy is more determined than ever to catch the subway groper! Or gropers. You can bet she'll sure have words for them when she catches 'em!
> 
> Provided her mouth isn't full, of course.

Over and Over Agwen  
Chapter Two  
-by Drace Domino

Two weeks later, Gwen Stacy had never been more disappointed with New York City’s mass transit system. For nearly fifteen days straight the hero took the subway - even when she didn’t need to go anywhere in particular - and for nearly fifteen days straight she’d gone completely unmolested.

She was only upset because that meant the criminal had gone into hiding to avoid being arrested, of course! Of course.

It was another late evening on the subway as Gwen rode, practically pouting as she did so. Why did she waste her money on a subway pass if there weren't any handsy passengers to confront? Why was she killing time in the tunnels when she could be up above the city skyline, fighting crime and serving as the city’s coolest hero? It was rare that Spider-Gwen got this frustrated on a crime hunt, but then...it was rare that anyone ever evaded her for this long. Every other villain she confronted was always all too eager to make their presence known, offering up some grand, elaborate evil scheme that was quick to be foiled. And yet...the man - the men - that assaulted her in the subway in weeks passed had apparently decided they’d had enough.

And it was starting to drive the teenage hero mad. Because she so very much wanted to bring them to justice, of course! Of course.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed as she studied the subway train passengers, pressing her tongue against the gap between her teeth while she did so. In order to better lure out her criminal prey she’d been riding the train for nearly two hours at that point, and in that time she watched dozens upon dozens of faces board and disembark, making it a point to study each of them in the hopes that she could recognize something. A jacket. A set of shoes. Hell, even a wedding ring that looked like it was as thick a band as the one that had been inside of her a few weeks ago. Any clue would have sufficed for the young hero, and yet...she was coming up completely empty yet again. A miserable end to two weeks of wasted time, and further proof that her hero skills weren’t quite as sharp as she’d thought.

And she’d put in so much effort, too! Not that she was lazy when it came to more violent threats to the city, but this time? This time she was really putting in the time! She even dug out her school uniform from last year to wear during these unfruitful rides, hoping that the higher pleated skirt and the tighter white blouse would help to lure the culprits out into the open. She’d spent days now purposefully dropping the same money clip, just so she could bend down from the waist and offer the subway passengers a tempting look at her backside covered in the embrace of skintight, pure, cotton white panties. She’d tried a half-dozen different perfumes, some innocent and sweet and some trashy and hot, and had even been working on her flirty eye game! The latter of which had already caused a few...awkward moments with boys in school that thought she was looking at them, but they could never understand.

Gwen Stacy wasn’t trying to catch a dorky schoolboy. She was trying to catch thick-fingered, impulsive, grope-greedy criminals.

The young woman huffed as the subway train stopped once more, and the same dance as before continued before her eyes. A few dozen people got off, a few dozen people got on, and she once more found herself briefly jostled by those that boarded. A bump from behind, a nudge to her shoulders by some old woman charging forward without care, and even someone callously stepping on her foot before offering a half-assed apology. Gwen just rolled her eyes and slowly tightened her fingers around the pole, murmuring under her breath in grumpy, disgruntled fashion.

“Another bust,” she sighed, lips pushing forward in a pure, unbridled pout. “Guess it’s another night of training.”

Training. That was what she’d been calling it these past few weeks. Specifically, resistance training held in her bedroom back home behind closed doors. If there was one thing she’d learned from her past encounters it was that she had a certain...weakness when the prowlers on the subway touched her. It stripped her of her resolve and made her helpless to fight back against them - an exposed, raw weakness of the famous Spider-Gwen. Because such a vulnerability could no doubt be used against her, Gwen had been deeply entrenched in training when she wasn’t actively hunting her prey. Fingers, toys, the corner of her desk, the detachable shower nozzle...her work had been extensive, and she was sure that by now she could resist their fondling touch. After all, those men from before had only forcibly fingered her to a singular, intense climax, but back home she’d given herself too many to count. And every last one of them had been with her mind locked upon what happened - thinking about the bold, violating touch of strange men passing across her teenage figure.

Something she only hyper-focused on to make sure she was guiding her resistance training in the right direction, of course. Of course.

Gwen had nearly given up that night after the third hour passed without a single finger idly teasing the bottom edge of her pleated schoolgirl skirt. Already she was making plans in her head for the next day’s efforts, still completely refusing to give up on her hunt for what was increasingly becoming the most notorious pair of criminals in all of New York City. The shorter skirt didn’t work. The panties didn’t work. The gratuitous bending down didn’t wor--well, it had been a few minutes she last tried--nope, the gratuitous bending down didn’t work. Maybe tomorrow it was time to push the envelope even further? Pigtails? A big wad of chewing gum to noisily snap and blow like a bimbo? Or maybe it was finally time to throw caution to the wind and tuck her panties into her bookbag before stepping on the subway?

Whatever she decided, she needed to do something drastic. Otherwise, those unidentified strangers might never grab her ass or stuff their fingers into her teenage pussy again.

Which was only important because she needed to bring them to justice, of course. Of course.

***

Gwen was dragging her heels when the subway made the last stop of her tour, her heart heavy that she’d failed to achieve her goal yet again. She offered one last look across the train with her blonde bangs dusting just before her eyes, lifting a single hand to sweep them away and tuck them behind her ears. The people were already in motion and she was jostled once more - a few bumps from behind as people pushed past, with a handful of irate comments about her spacing out and holding up the line of traffic. But as the heroic blonde turned back to join them and slip out of the train and into the station beyond, something finally happened that she’d been waiting weeks to occur.

It was subtle - almost hard for her to discern - but after so much time feeling as if her stakeout had been neglected, the fingers that pinched her teenage backside were as vivid as the break of day. It was a swift and quick pinch just below the edge of her tight panties, focused on the spot of plump rear that was sticking out from underneath before joining her thighs on the trip down her body. As soon as she felt the impact of those stiff fingers against her bottom Gwen gave an audible gasp as her entire body responded - a quickened heart rate, her breath catching in the center of her throat, her eyes going wide, and goosebumps almost immediately forming on her flesh. She stood right there in the door of the subway as people continued to push past her, and it was only too late that she realized whoever had groped her had certainly moved on. When she turned to glance behind her nobody was anywhere near close enough to be the culprit, while stretching on further into the station there were ten, twenty, thirty people - any of whom could have easily been her only clue in the past two weeks’ drought.

When the subway doors started to close Gwen gave a pathetic whimper as she stepped out, not even hiding the fact that her hand was reaching down to rub the spot where she’d been pinched. As small and as brief as it was, she could still feel it burn against her flesh, giving her a memory to cling to while tactile sensation the others had long since faded. Her panties were already shamefully damp with her teenage pussy quivering from that brief contact - sadly acknowledging that it was likely all she’d experience that frustrating night.

“...fuck,” Gwen finally sighed as she saw the crowd before her disperse and the subway train start its roll forward, leaving her behind in the dirty, dingy station. She’d been so close. So close to catching her culprit. So close to getting what she was after. “He’s toying with me.”

Typical supervillain fare. Taunt the daring hero that was after you, play with her emotions and try to get under her skin. Keep her on edge. Keep her trembling. Keep her adrenaline pumping.

Keep her wet with building anticipation.

Gwen huffed in irritation as she blew upwards at an errant few locks of blonde hair, and her tongue nuzzled the gap between her teeth as she finally relented. It looked like another bust of a night with that criminal mastermind getting away again - this time while leaving a calling card in the form of a freshly-pinched teen ass. What Gwen didn’t realize until a few seconds later, as she slipped her hands into her pockets and began to walk once more, that it wasn’t the only card that had been left behind.

She only made it a handful of steps before her fingers curled around a piece of paper in her pocket, her pierced brow lifting and a thoughtful noise escaping the back of her throat. When she pulled her hand free there was a crumpled note resting in her palm, and written hastily across it were seven simple words.

“Left platform men’s restroom. Very last stall.”

Gwen Stacy’s hand actively trembled as she whispered the note’s contents to herself, her eyes starting to widen and her body trembling with building, heroic excitement. Could this ruthless villain truly be so foolish as to invite her into a confrontation?! Could he be so cocky as to think he’d be able to avoid the wrath of Spider-Gwen?! If she went to this location, would he lay his hands on her body again?!

It took every bit of strength inside of Gwen to prevent from running full tilt in the direction detailed in the note, and instead she simply closed her fingers taut around it and stuffed it back into her pocket. For evidence. Already she could feel her cheeks blushing a vibrant pink and the hairs on the back of her neck standing up - no spider sense yet, but she could only presume that was because whoever this criminal scum was offered no real threat to someone as powerful as her! Even if this was a trap, she’d be just fine, and walk out of it the victor.

If that was the case, Gwen had no real explanation for why her body was quivering as she made her way through the station and to the left platform. Why her thighs were marked with goosebumps, why her nethers were wet against her panties, why she had butterflies in her belly like she’d never known before in an entire teen career of high school dances. It was easy enough to chalk all of those sensations up to the thrill of the hunt - the knowledge that her target was putting himself right into the line of justice’s eye. Doing stakeout work was long and frustrating - emphasis on the frustrating part - but Gwen was finally about to reap the benefits of all her struggles.

The station was still crowded, and it took the young woman’s unnatural athletic abilities to sneak into the men’s room without detection. She waited until everyone had drifted past or was otherwise distracted before darting in with surprising speed, her pleated schoolgirl skirt dancing across her thighs as she did so. Almost instantly she was stuck with sensations - the lingering scent of industrial bleach that went hand-in-hand with subway restrooms and the noisily sticky floors that made it clear said bleach wasn’t enough. As she poked her head around the corner she spotted a row of urinals that were half-staffed by men with their backs turned, and before they had a chance to finish she darted forward as quietly as she could. Straight down to the row of stalls, shooting a beeline towards the final one where the door was already - conveniently - open for her.

With all the grace of a ballet dancer and all the bravery of a superhero, Gwen Stacy darted into the stall and swiftly closed it behind her. She didn’t bother to lock it - her new arch nemesis had an open invitation to come and meet her face-to-face.

An encounter that she was greatly looking forward to.

Somehow, the stall was even seedier than Gwen envisioned. She sat there now on the closed lid of the toilet, squirming in place and holding her hands in her lap in an attempt not to touch anything. The floor was sticky and she was positioned squarely underneath the air conditioner’s vent, ensuring that the entire time she sat there she was under the assault of a stream of chilly subway air. Most uncomfortable of all was the graffiti written on the walls and the door in front of her - something that she found herself unable to look away from, since nearly each and every word carried a certain resonance with the conflicted young woman.

“Subway whores are the best whores,” Gwen mouthed along in silence as she read one of the phrases hastily written on the door, just before her eyes darted to another batch and she repeated the process with its shared wisdom. “NYC stands for naughty young cumsluts.”

Gwen gave a nervous swallow as she sat there, squeezing her thighs together and subconsciously grinding them back and forth while her moistened slit quivered beneath the fabric of her panties. She took a few long, deep breaths as her fingers drummed against her knees, or simply fidgeting with her skirt in an attempt to tug it further down across her thighs. Why did she wear the short, short one?! She felt so...exposed, and that sensation only intensified the more she read the bathroom poetry.

“One in the mouth, one in the ass, two in the pussy.”

“For a good time, ride Train 255.”

“No condoms for bad bitches.”

“Open your fucking mouth, you blonde schoolgirl tramp.”

The last one made Gwen blink in surprise - a bit personal, wasn’t it?! As soon as Gwen read it she realized that particular bit of bathroom graffiti was positioned squarely over a hole in the wall leading to the stall beside her - and through it she could already spot the shadows of someone moving from the other side, with a pair of shoes lining up and pointing towards her own. It all happened terribly quickly - far sooner than Spider-Gwen needed to put everything together and form some sort of heroic plan. One minute, she was fidgeting on her cold porcelain seat and shivering underneath the blast of the air conditioner, and the next she was left gasping with wide eyes and a tight throat as the first sight of a cock made its way through the hole. The man on the other end was leading himself forward with the sort of bold authority that Gwen had come to expect from the perverts in the NYC subway, but even by their standards this seemed daring!

The heroic blonde sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the prick that was now offered through the glory hole for her attention. It was...bigger than she would’ve guessed a man in such a position would be wielding, with a length that damn near matched her forearm and a girth that she wasn’t sure she could fit her hand around. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant red as she studied it, pressing her front teeth down against her lower lip so hard that she could feel a bit of it catch between the gap. Her heart was racing and her head was swimming as she beared witness to what was her first up close and personal encounter with a plump and demanding dick - unsure of just what to do, and yet enticed beyond all measure.

“Hurry the fuck up,” the voice in the stall beside her suddenly filled the air, impatient and demanding and making Gwen flinch from the sound. “Gotta be home for dinner in a half hour.”

“S-Sorry, sorry!” Gwen found herself actively apologizing for her hesitation, the words escaping her lips before she even realized what she was doing. Similarly, her hand snaked out and her smooth, soft fingers found their way to brush along the stranger’s prick even while conflicted arousal rushed through her. The thoughts of taking down her horny assailant were long gone by that point as she fidgeted a little closer to the edge of the toilet, slowly bending from the waist as she felt his prick twitch underneath her touch.

Gwen Stacy was a good girl. A hero. A talented and brilliant student. A fine daughter. A dutiful citizen. And yet, as she leaned forward with her lips parting and her tongue slowly starting to creep out, she caught sight of some of the graffiti on the wall and was reminded swiftly that she was one more thing. One more title to go along with her already impressive resume.

A subway whore.

With her eyes closed and her heart racing, Gwen let her tongue press against the stranger’s cockhead for what was to be her first lick of a sinful new life. She started straight at the tip and in doing so was treated to the taste of glistening precum, something she then spread across the top edge of his shaft while she slowly teased it across. She was so enchanted by the sensation - and the way he twitched within her gentle grasp - that a soft thud filled the air as she bonked her forehead on the wall just above the glory hole. After a tiny whimper, she proved herself undaunted, and swiftly dipped her head low once more to resume her work.

It was her first time handling a man’s cock, and though she desperately wanted to take her time and really get used to it, her new friend was in a hurry. He had to be home in just a half hour, after all! No doubt to kiss his wife on the cheek and go on with the rest of his evening, with the spit of a teenage subway slut drying on his prick. The thought made Gwen lightheaded as she toiled but it didn’t cause her to stop, and in fact she opened her mouth a little wider to usher his twitching cockhead right against her tongue to squeeze the first few inches into her maw. It was a tight fit, forcing her tongue to go flat to the floor of her mouth and making her lips stretch wide. Her jaw almost instantly ached but she pushed forward regardless, whimpering as she did so and forcing herself slowly, hungrily forward. Her eyes were locked on the stall wall in front of her and in particular the graffiti that was written there - clearly scribbled for her own benefit, and only serving to make her feel all the more filthy and depraved. A blonde schoolgirl tramp, sitting there sucking a stranger’s dick in a filthy subway restroom.

Maybe she wasn’t that good a girl after all.

As Gwen continued to slurp down her new friend’s rod, she grew more and more confident as the seconds passed. Her head began to gently tilt from side to side and as it did so her tongue was able to drift underneath him, no longer a pinned, wet muscle but a writhing presence as she drank in the taste of his dick. By that point one of her hands had closed around his girthy shaft as much as it was able, but Gwen was genuinely surprised to discover what her other hand was up to - having snuck underneath the edge of her skirt and into her panties without even noticing. It wasn’t until she had guided two fingers into her sopping teenage cunt that Gwen actively realized she was doing it, and once she did her thighs trembled and shook and she offered a hungry whimper against the dick pushing towards the back of her throat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” the man on the other side of the wall groaned, the satisfaction apparent in his tone. “Nice little mouth on you, slut. But pick up the pace, you’re not good enough for me to waste my whole fucking evening on.”

Gwen would’ve apologized again, much to her own shame, if her mouth wasn’t busy carrying out its duty. She did exactly as she was told, however, and with a tighter grip at the base of the stranger’s length began to bob her head up and down with a renewed pace. The quicker motions forced her to focus on his pleasure rather than her own, and while she swirled her eager young tongue across his twitching length the hooked fingers within her pussy were forced to go dormant, save for the walls that continued to spasm around them in an intense grip. The more Gwen worked the sloppier her job became - who knew that giving a subway bathroom blowjob could be such a messy affair?! Her hand was rapidly coating in her excess spit and on the quicker thrusts she felt it slap against her cheeks or even reach down to her throat, serving as a wet, teasing reminder of just how far she’d fallen. Still, the hero ignored the shame just like she ignored the chill from the air above or the way it forced her nipples uncomfortably against the embrace of her bra, treating it as yet another thing she needed to shut her mind off towards if she was going to solve this crime.

Granted, in the heat of the moment she couldn’t really remember what crime had been committed, but it’d come to her sooner or later.

Faster and faster she worked, rushing through her first ever blowjob not for her own benefit, but for that of the demanding, unknown man on the other side of the stall. She sucked him down with greedy slurps and whimpering noises so he could rush back to join his family, and she bonked her nose and forehead against the stall more than a few times so he could finish up and catch the next train back. At a certain point, her spit-covered hand even pivoted to reach the rest of the way through the hole, where she found herself fondling his heavy, hairy sack to offer him yet another form of glorious, teenage attention. Her tongue flailed and she kept pushing herself down to the point that his head nearby breached her throat - something that Gwen most likely would have risked taking even deeper, were the wall not in the way and her new friend not in such a rush.

Again the stranger hissed in delight, and even though this was her first time, Gwen could tell that he was close. Surely, a man only made a noise like that when he was near his peak! He swore under his breath and his cock twitched within her mouth, and Gwen finally abandoned her own achingly warm pussy to allow her other hand to assist. Soon both of her heroic palms were wrapped around his slippery shaft, pumping in perfect time with her mouth, her lips pressed against her closed fingers while she bobbed vigorously, wildly, and shamelessly.

“Guh...guh...guh...guh!” Her voice was filling the air of the men’s restroom, each gutteral noise carried along with wet, greedy slurping noises that would’ve made guessing what was going on near the end of the line of stalls almost laughably easy. The faster she worked the messier the blowjob became, and before long Gwen could feel her own spit splatter against her with enhanced velocity and reach - her cheeks, her nose, her throat, even the bare spots of her legs in between her knee socks and the bottom edge of that scandalously short schoolgirl skirt.

The mess would only increase from there, as Gwen Stacy’s first blowjob finally yielded results. The groping pervert on the other side of the stall finally hit his peak, and the wall shuddered as he no doubt bucked against it, as if trying to drive his cock as deep into the teenager’s mouth as possible. For Gwen’s part, she tried to accommodate him - tilting her head and wedging it forward, ushering his cock to the back of her mouth and sticking the tip of her nose through the glory hole. Her tongue stuck out while her lips gasped and trembled, and she struggled for breath as that mighty length convulsed atop her tongue and began to release its payload.

It was overwhelming in so many ways that she was once again amazed her spider sense didn’t activate. The sting of hot, warm cream as it fired squarely down her throat. The taste of a stranger’s cum absolutely coating her tongue in a bath of spunk. The noise of his orgasmic grunts with the distant sound of the restroom sink not far off, serving as a fresh reminder of just how exposed she was. Gwen gave a cum-muffled moan as she felt his load fire squarely into her gasping maw, and perhaps more than ever she was glad the restroom door was closed and she was kept to some element of privacy, simply because she made an absolute mess of herself.

She sputtered. She coughed. She gagged. His cock flopped from her lips while still squirting, and it treated her to a shot of white spunk from the bottom of her cheek to the edge of her undercut, while taking a detour to splash squarely over the piercing in her eyebrow. Another few ropes dumped against the front of her freshly-cleaned school uniform, plastering the snug-fitting white blouse and even landing against the pleats of her skirt, with some even dropping against her milky-white thighs or oozing against those knee-high black socks. There was so, so much of it, and as a fresh-mouthed virgin Gwen Stacy utterly failed to handle it gracefully.

But then...just like it said on some graffiti on the stall door, sloppy cocksucking teens was what the NYC mass transit system was known for.

The stranger had already pulled his cock back through the hole and left by the time Gwen came back to her senses. She heard the sudden rip of a zipper and the dismissive slamming of the stall door beside her as he did so, and it made her blink in a stunning realization of just how thoroughly she’d been used. She sat there in the aftermath on the closed lid of the subway toilet, one hand balancing just below her chin as cum dribbled from her face into her outstretched palm. Simply sitting...staring...and letting her mind spin over what she’d just done.

The taste of cum was still fresh on her tongue, thanks in part to the fact that her mouth was still half-filled with it, her head tilted back to help delicately balance it. With no other recourse the young woman slowly let her lips seal closed and she afforded herself a brief moment to savor it - the texture, the flavor, even the warmth as it sloshed around - just before she finally tightened her throat and gulped it down with a heavy, bracing swallow. While it passed down her throat, that sticky white goo went down with a fair bit of difficulty, clinging as it did to her teenage throat and forming a small bridge of white between the gap in her teeth. It took her a few extra swallows before she was finally convinced that she had it all down, and even then her tongue still felt absolutely coated by that heavy, creamy glaze.

From there, Gwen was left gasping, her eyes darting around the stall at the further mess that was yet to be cleaned. A puddle of cum in her open palm. White streaks over her thighs and darting along the edge of her skirt. The texture of slimy spunk dripping down her smooth, pale cheek and a line of nectar falling just in front of her line of sight from where it clung to her pierced brow. It was an experience much like her very first brawl as a superhero - that moment of stunning aftermath where she sat in the sweat and the mess and the heat, slowly coming to a realization that there was something deep, deep inside of her that relished this. That enjoyed it. That was good at it.

Once more, Gwen’s eyes traced the graffiti before her, looking at each and every reminder of what she’d done. The hastily written scribbles that called her a slut, a whore, a teenage cocksucking bitch...they were all entirely accurate, and she knew it down to the pit of her belly that was currently sitting heavy with a puddle of a strange pervert’s sperm. And like any good hero, Gwen’s eyes kept moving until they fell on a clue - a hint to where the next step of her investigation would take place.

“For a good time, ride Train 255,” Gwen whispered to herself as she read over a particularly prominent note, and in doing so squeezed her thighs together from pure reflex. What once seemed like immature and childish filth written on a subway restroom door was feeling increasingly like something else. Something more sinister, depraved, and filthy than what Gwen Stacy had already endured.

It wasn’t mere graffiti. It was an invitation.

End of Chapter 2.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Today marks the first day of my new 2021 schedule! A new story (or chapter of a story) every Wednesday and Friday! Make sure to follow me here, or more preferably, over on [Twitter!](http://www.twitter.com/DraceTales)


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